While I’m working on another project, my dog Lucy has taken over the blog. I should be back blogging a few times next week. Until then, I’m hoping you and your dogs will enjoy Lucy’s perspective on life.
I can tell by the way Don puts on his socks whether or not he is getting ready for work or whether we are going for a walk. His head is down when he’s getting ready to write. His head is up when we are going for a walk. That’s how you know. I lay in bed until he puts on his socks. From the time he gets up in the morning to the time he puts on his socks can take half an hour, which is fine with me. I sleep late. I roll over on my back and put my paws in the air and feel the wind from the ceiling fan against my belly. I love my belly. I love my body when I know it’s there. I don’t always know it’s there. Sometimes when people pet my hind end I remember I have a body but other than that I don’t think about it, unless of course there is wind across my belly from the ceiling fan. I love my belly because it’s where the air touches me, and where Don pats me. I love my belly because it feels so good to have a belly. I love my belly because I didn’t make it, have nothing to do with it, and yet I got it for free and didn’t have to earn it. I don’t even feel grateful for my belly because my belly was a gift and it was free and whoever gave it to me just wants me to enjoy it and not feel obligated about having it. I get to connect with the things I love through my belly, through the blond hairs on my belly. I feel the same about my ears.
Here are the things that matter to me most: Don, other people, using the bathroom, swimming at the park, swimming at the river, playing in the house, playing outside, food, chasing cats and squirrels and other dogs. My body isn’t on that list but without my body I can’t do all the things I love. I’m not my body. My body is what I live in but it isn’t me. My body is just the tent I come back inside of when somebody pets my hind end or when I need to see where the squirrel went in the tree.
When I was younger, people liked me more. I couldn’t go on a walk without people pulling their cars over to pet me. I love people so I didn’t mind, but after a while Don took me mostly down backstreets so I could get some exercise. As I got bigger, people didn’t stop as much, but I didn’t notice. That’s one of the differences between people and dogs, you know. People think they are their bodies, that they are how they look, and they get sad when they don’t get noticed as much, but they aren’t their bodies, they are something else. People have to have categories and definitions for things so they make things up, they pretend they are their bodies or they are their personalities, but really they are something else that doesn’t have an explanation. Dog’s understand this very well because we understand just what we are supposed to understand and nothing more.
People think Dog’s believe lies and that makes us cute, but the truth is people believe more lies than dogs. But the lies people believe don’t make them cute. They are cute without the lies. They were cuter before the lies got told and before they believed the lies. Dogs don’t cover up their bodies because dogs don’t know they have bodies at all, unless somebody pets their hind end.
I love my body. I love when Don pats my belly, or when he gets down on the floor and tackles me with his head. I love tackling his head with my paws, or when he takes my legs out like a cow and I bite his arms and whip around and pin him to the floor. The only thing we are really given a body for is as a way to connect with other people and for swimming. It’s how we touch, or tell people we are smiling, or tell people we are crying, or parallel the connecting of our souls. It’s a sad thing people know they have bodies. It’s a sad thing they believe they are their bodies. It’s a sad lie.
Lucy–You’re really wise. I live in a wheelchair because my body got damaged a while back, and some people treat me like a guy in a wheelchair instead of just a guy. Sometimes I’m silly enough to believe them.
I even get depressed enough to start thinking of myself as a wheelchair instead of a person. Pretty dumb, huh? A dog knows better.
Richard, thank you for this comment. You got me thinking about how vulnerable we all are to this. I did plyometrics at the gym this morning until I was all red-faced, sweaty, and gasping for air. When I left, I was convinced I was my cool gym clothes instead of a person. Don, Lucy needs to write a children’s book. I would totally read it to my daughter.
I vote for a book for adults…the wisdom of Lucy is deep.
I vote for both, because I really want my daughter to learn from Lucy.
I love the world according to Lucy as she takes us out of ourselves, seeing ourselves afresh. I raise an eyebrow, chuckle nervously at how right she is…and I want to read more. Yes, a book would be delightful, for both children and adults alike: to share and reflect, to get us out of ourselves
I totally agree! We need Lucy to write a book for adults and for kids! I love Lucy’s perspective and my grand daughter would so love a book by Lucy =)
Yes. Thank you
Thanks Lucy, I always wondered how my dog Cookie knows the difference between when I am putting my shoes on for the gym, and when I am putting shoes on to take him for a walk. You dogs sure are cluey.
I’m looking at my belly today in a whole new way too.
Yes, I am looking at my belly too… and now I am putting on my gym shoes.
I need a dog…
<
Meow
OK Lucy, I get it, I get it….it’d just be nice if someone wanted to pat me on my hind end sometimes.
Amen sista!
Lucy is VERY wise! Something I’ve been working on for sure! And, I agree-a nice pat on the “hind end” wouldn’t be bad every once in awhile! Well said!
I love you Lucy, I have Cerebral Palsy myself, and you remind me that this body really isn’t mine to hate.
Lucy you are so smart! Gotta go pat my Molly’s belly and then put my socks on for a walk!
Lucy, I can relate to how you view your body, and how you see things differently.
I’m the only human being who lives without a head. When I’m told to count the people in a room, I often forget to count myself, because I just count heads. Instead of a head, I just have this great panorama – this great expanse – that I see before me.
Scientists, who study vision, say that everything that I believe to be in the panorama really isn’t there though. That’s because my eyes dart around and focus only on a few things in what is called a ‘saccade.’ Then my brain fills in the blanks on what’s there. So, much of this great expanse in front of me is entirely of my own construction.
Lucy, maybe one day we can be friends! You are so so smart and have SO much to teach us!
I hope your day is full of new discoveries (and belly scratches)!
Lucy you are fascinating. You should keep writing. Maybe, write your own book filled with little bits of simple wisdom. I think people are way more likely to listen to a dog… in comparison to other people. Your motives seem very pure. Thanks Lucy.
Hi Lucy,
My pomeranian, Traveler, says hello too. He is smart like you are and always knows by the shoes I put on if I am go stay inside or go somewhere outside. He jumps up and gives me a little bark and runs around me. Traveler loves his belly, too – and his favorite thing to do is position himself on the thermos bag when I go shopping. I have ice packs in the bag and put groceries in there because we live 100 miles away. He spreads his tummy on that bag and stays cool in the back seat. Usually he is on my lap, but the cool bag is more enticing than my lap on a hot day, even with air conditioning blowing on him. He is very hairy – even his tummy – so being cool is important.
Bodies are important – I recently had shoulder surgery – and had not thought that much about my shoulder until I could not use it for awhile. The day after I had my surgery I was in a natural grocery store and met a young man who had the most fabulous legs I have ever seen. They were bionic. He was wearing shorts, so everyone could see how fabulous they were. I admired them and he admired my big shoulder harness! He told me that kids love them when he goes to see those who have lost limbs. I did not ask him, but I figure he lost them in war.
This young man was proud of his new, wonderful, expensive legs and showed them off as if he had been born with them. I was proud to get to talk to him.
Well, Traveler is at the door looking at me – that means he needs to go outside. He is a barker, but has learned that just a look works as well.
Have a great day Lucy. You have brightened mine considerably.
Jimmie
I like your stories, Lucy, and I like ceiling fans.
Lucy, are you gonna have puppies anytime soon?
These posts are making me want a dog!
This was an incredible post Lucy. You are spoiling us with your musings! Don should consider co-authoring a book with you. You seem to offer him an outsider’s perspective!
Don,
I always read your posts, but I felt compelled to take a minute and say “thanks” today.
I read the following words, and I found myself wanting to share them with my sister:
“..That’s one of the differences between people and dogs, you know. People think they are their bodies, that they are how they look, and they get sad when they don’t get noticed as much, but they aren’t their bodies, they are something else…”
These words truly were amazing. They speak so clearly to a lie so many of us are fooled into believing.
I mentioned I wanted to share these words with my sister, but the thing is, I know I cannot. She passed away earlier this year. She was just 19. And it still hurts. Every single day. But these words made me think of her. Because I knew they are words that would’ve spoken to her soul. Because I know this is a lie she was fooled into believing as well.
So thank you, Don. Er, I mean, thank you, Lucy.
Ryan
Ryan,
I am so sorry about you having to lose your sister. She had a kind brother, there’s no question. I only hope she somehow knew that.
Thanks for the kind words, Don. They mean so much.
I really like these (although I don’t like them better than Don’s post). It is always great when there is an innocent perspective on things, straightforward and pure …
but maybe we are bodies too
a marriage of flesh and soul
yet we can’t see right
perhaps our eyes are the problem
dogs don’t have bad eyes like I do
I want to be eloquent but I don’t have any words beyond a deep-down-in-me “Yes!”. So that’ll have to do. I think people would be much happier if they forgot they had bodies a little more. Lucy, you’re wonderful!
xx
great post Lucy.
I like my belly too.
I like to feel the breeze on it from the ceiling fan.
And I like that when I squish it all together around my belly button it kinda looks like a bagel.
I love you, Lucy. I am going to try and forget I have a body more. And beg for belly rubs. Hugs!
Thank you, thank you, Lucy. God had just been reminding me of some of the things you said…
You’re quite a smart dog, Lucy. I wonder if you’ve been reading C.S. Lewis, because he wrote “You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” I like that. I have a 10-month old puppy, she doesn’t read yet.
As someone who has struggled with more than one eating disorder in a never-ending quest to have a body that’s “good enough”, I find this really touching. Thanks, Lucy.
Same here, Megan. I had an eating disorder over a decade ago and I still struggle with insecurity over my body. Sure wish I had Lucy’s perspective on this!
Wow, I really needed to read this today. Thank you Lucy for all your wisdom.
Hugs and kisses to you and Don.
Lucy, What if you know you are not your body but other people don’t?
In cases like that, I think Lucy might suggest seeking out people who do know.
Lucy’s posts have been amazing. Maybe scripture should be ammended to say “Unless you become like a little child (or a dog) you can’t enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Thanks for reminding us of things so easily forgotten….
Can lucy write a book please. Because i think it will change my life.
Dear Lucy,
You look just like my Lucy (who is also a chocolate lab pup.) I hope she grows up to be as wise as you and know she is loved. You two should have a play date soon
Dear Lucy,
I know you are a dog, which makes me appreciate the profundity of your writing even more. Thus I completely understand that your paws probably slipped on the keys (which are definitely not very canine-user-friendly) and accidentally used the possessive (rather than plural) form of “dogs”…
=P
-Jac
I never wanted to be a dog before. I do now.
Its interesting how when you are a patient, like I have been a cancer patient, people forget you are inside your body, they talk to your body about your body, and it makes you want to scream “Hey! I am IN HERE YOU KNOW!” I have been really moved by the folks who have posted here who have real ongoing physical challenges.
Lucy, you have helped us see its not that hard to be thoughtful, deep and consider what it means to be alive – even a dog can do it.
Hi Lucy this is Rosco. Sarah my friend who feeds me and takes me on walks started crying when she read your blog. She had just cooked eggs with cheese and hot chili peppers in them. She wiped her eyes and I think the chili pepper oil that was still on her hands reminded her that she has a body. When I was little Sarah and the guy with a beard, who sometimes gives me lunch meat, read a book that said they could teach me to poop on command. They took me outside into the cold snow and told me to post a blog. It didn’t work, whoever wrote that book didn’t know much about me and my owners didn’t know much about a dog’s capacity for blogging.
Thanks for sharing your blog!
glad Lucy is writing…always wanted to do this for my dog grits but never had the guts. maybe i will now. thanks.
Profound Lucy!
Thanks! Seamus says ‘Hi!’ which equates sniffing and slobber…
I was very moved by this post. I suffer from an eating disorder and can become so obsessed with the way my body looks that I cannot focus on living the life God created me for. I forget sometimes that I am not my body, that I am only a small part of what the Lord has created here on this earth and that I should be using my body to glorify Him.
Thank you Lucy, for allowing God to speak through you to me today!
You have confirmed the suspicion I’ve had for years, since meeting my own four-legged friend; Dog’s are smarter than humans!
Thank you for enlightening me tonight!
Marci
Thanks for the wise perspective Lucy, i your blog today. I am amazed at how your paws are able to type, lol!
I have struggled for years with body image, instead of being thankful for what i can do… we all need to focus on the positive to keep the negative in its place!
PS. I’d pet you no matter what size or age you are!!!
Don, I love that you’re taking dictation from Lucy now – or is she the one typing? I imagine that paw typing must be rather difficult. Especially with the standard QWERTY keyboard explicitly designed for human hands – does Lucy have her own special keyboard? But I digress.
Excellent, thoughtful post. We are not our own, and in some sense, we are not even the “we” that we think we are.
But. And this is the grammar police coming out in me. Plural and possessive – in the 3rd and 4th paragraphs, you say “dog’s” when you should say “dogs.” Not that this detracts from what you’re saying for me – but I have tried to share some of your blog posts with non-Christians before, and some of them are less than kind. They see even a tiny grammatical error as a weakness, and they ridicule a wise article based on grammar. This makes me sad, because these people are simply attacking aesthetics as a way to avoid deeper consideration for the article. So please, Don/Lucy. Plural and posessive. Please.
Russell,
I am a “non-Christian” and a grammar/proofreading freak…and I hadn’t noticed the error, because I was lost in the beauty of the message. I didn’t even realize from the story that this was a Christian blog.
Laura,
I wasn’t trying to make a sweeping statement about all non-Christians, please don’t misunderstand me. Some specific folks I know just happen to pick apart grammar so that they don’t have to consider the depth of what they’re reading. That or else it distracts them from further contemplation. My comment wasn’t meant to be a generalization, so I apologize if you took it that way.
Dear Lucy,
I like your blog.
I have a blog too.
It’s not as deep as yours – but if you’d like to be friends – come see my pictures and blog. It’s about my life. How crazy it’s been. All the places me and mom lived – well most of them since I’ve been here. I like it when mom let’s me blog. Have a good day.
Teddy.
ps – the Allergies are back this year ;0(……
Lucy, you are very wise. People can very much still be like whitewashed tombs. . .so worried about the outside that they forget everything else.
Hey Lucy — How do you know that you have blonde hair on your belly? Did Don actually take the time to tell you? Secondly, have you ever had times where you felt like Don was no longer there? Regardless of how much you cry out of fear of being alone that you feel like he is never coming back? If so, how do you deal with those uncertain times and feelings? How do you overcome the lie that he is gone forever or, going back to the Toy Story blogs, overcome the lie that you have been tossed out with the trash?
You are oh so very wise, Lucy. Much love to you.
Hi Lucy, this is Bronte. My pack made my name very confusing to other people by spelling it like some old writer of people books, so a lot of people say it all French-sounding with an “ay” on the end, but really it’s said Brontie. Anyway, thanks for putting into words what I feel about my own belly. I think my girl person enjoyed it too; she used to really struggle with body issues back when she had an e.d. and she’s learning her body is just something that carries around who she really is, too. Here is a belly-rub tip for you that works really well on my girl person. As soon as you see Don rolling out of bed in the morning and staggering around half awake, run over in between him and wherever he’s going and flop over on your back, belly up, so he will have to reach down and rub you. I mean, who can resist, right? Then figure out the next place he will be going, and get in front of him and flop over again. More bliss! Study his morning routine (all people have them) and plan several really good spots to intercept him. The fun is never ending!
Miss Lucy, you are one smart cookie! You remind me of my own, smarty-pants, Edith Anne!! She teaches me something new every day.
Your words are perfectly timed. One year ago today, my precious MeMa passed away. You reminded me of something, I placed on my FB page, the day of her funeral ~ “Today I say good-bye to my grandmother’s body while embracing her spirit.”
Like you, my MeMa was extremely wise. She died at 89 – but often told me, “Maggie, the hardest part of getting older, is when your body deteriorates but your brain stays intact.”
She was sharp to the end ~ and was able to tell me, she had lived a good life ~ on her own terms with no regrets. We had no unsaid words, so when she told me, “I am ready to go. Don’t you cry for me, because I will be with my Jesus and my husband (my PePa). And I will be whole.”
Isn’t that what we all want Miss Lucy? To be whole. How sad that the world makes us THINK we are not whole ~ when in reality (NO MATTER WHAT) we are all images of God. You “got that”, thank you for passing it along!
~ Edith Anne and I wish you many days, filled with swimming, ceiling fans, and belly rubs! (Oh, Edith Anne added, “Naps!! Don’t forget naps!!) ~ Maggie B.
Thank you for a very fine reminder from a dog to a human who is finding it more difficult these days to remember that my body is gift no matter what.
Sometimes daily pain gets in the way of clear thinking but a good word (bark?) from a dog restores a more divine balance.
Warm regards,
B
Thank you Lucy.
I just read your blog to my dog Ella (she’s a labradoodle the same color as you) She always listens, or so it seems and she always notices the socks on put on in the morning. We almost always take a morning run – if not it is considered a very bad day for both of us. Ella has better reasons for our morning run…the smells, leaving scents behind for any handsome pups who might happen along our trail, the puddles, ponds, or Lake Michigan, the squirels, chipmunks, or the dogs and people we pass. As much as I cherish the time on the trail with all that God has created for me to enjoy, my main motivation is my body.(At 47 I should be happy with the healthy, fit body I have and not feel that it needs to be that of a 27 year old again) It is sad because that overshadows all the beauty and the possibilities that God has laid out on my path each and every day. I am sure that my view is not what He intended, so tomorrow, I am going to head out with this verse in my head –
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Oh, and Lucy, I agree with many that you should write a book with Don’s help. Of course it would be all you, he would just have to type.
Ella and I are thinking about writing a book about our running adventures, of which there are many. She doesn’t like the idea that I want to use her shadow (which looks really funny) as the cartoon character for our book. We will continue to discuss this on our morning runs and hopefully come to a conclusion soon. Maybe she’ll agree when I finally realize I can forget about my body.
Thank Don for us for his willingness to share some blog space with you. He probably had no idea the impact it would have!
Lucy you wrote a great blog post. Great thoughts. That whole body thing does seem to get in the way with those humans. My name is Harper Lee (Yes, I am named after the famous author and yes it is a lot to live up to.) I am a chocolate too. I live in GA where it is so dang hot. I sleep on my back. We should meet. I know from your writing that we would be bffs!
I’m with ya, Lucy. But remember, you’re a lucky dog. There are a lot of dogs out there who get primped and prodded and groomed and trained and put on a big show. They spend more time inside trying to look their absolute best, they don’t get a chance to feel their absolute best. Fur has to have a certain glow. Posture is of utmost importance. They have to walk the walk. Some don’t get to jump in the creek. Other’s don’t get to play in the mud. Some get put on diets. Others get their voice boxes lasered. No barking, no chewing, no clawing, no shedding. Don’t pee here, don’t eat that. Sit, sit, sit. There are dogs on anti-anxiety meds.
Human expectations. Aren’t they a bitch?
I think we are definitely not only our bodies, but forgetting we have a body is a luxury dogs have that humans do not share. For me, it’s important to remember that I have a body because Jesus remembered I have a body and decided to “become flesh” so he could show us what God is like. He told us that we can only be part of what he is doing if we eat his flesh…by taking communion we enter into his body by using ours. Jesus knew that our bodies are an important part of us, and you can’t separate our souls from our bodies. That kind of dualistic thinking has caused lots of complicated and unpleasant issues in the past. I think we need to remember that we have bodies, and be aware of how they look, because we can thank the Creator for the beauty of them and the way that he will one day restore their brokenness. The main problem, as I see it, is the way we judge each other’s bodies! Lucy, you’re lucky because dogs don’t do that to each other.
don – great post. deep thoughts. and I understand my dog copper better (which is also deep).
Very unique and cute idea! Love it!